


A Generation Apart

by ElfGrove



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-02 10:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13315776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfGrove/pseuds/ElfGrove
Summary: A five + one story of Jason and Nico meeting, if Nico and Bianca had left the Lotus casino long before Percy Jackson.A young Roman demigod meets an old Greek demigod out in the world, and the two form a strange friendship.





	1. First Meeting

Jason fell as he scrambled away from the monster, sure this was going to be the end of it. He was going to die here, alone, in some sleepy Midwestern town he didn’t even know the name of.

_Some Centurion he was._

He heard the scrape of claws against concrete as the creature launched itself in a leap to finish him off.

He grimaced against the coming blow and rending flesh that was sure to follow.

_..._

_... ..._

_Nothing._

There was the scramble of claws against pavement again.

_It had… missed?_

He rolled, hand groping for his dropped golden sword even as he slowly understood he had to take advantage of the opportunity. Against impossible odds, he had a second chance.

**_He had to try to survive._ **

He righted himself to find a man standing between him and his assailant. Shoulders hunched and pale hair pulled back in a small bun with curly flyaways. A dark sword flashed under the streetlight and the unknown swordsman grunted as he surged forward, blade impaling the monster, causing it to disappear in a shower of golden dust.

_He’d been rescued._

He cobbled together enough sense and strength to get to his feet again. He was still breathing hard from having the wind knocked out of him and the sureness of the impending death that hadn’t come.

"Gratias," He managed out his first word, instinctually sipping into Latin.

The man snorted loudly through his nose, already busying himself with cleaning the black iron sword, "You need to work on your footwork, Runt."

Jason had never seen a demigod sword like that, and it had to be a godly blade to do that to a monster. As his adrenaline started to wind down letting him focus on putting together details outside of fighting, the man turned to look at him. The pale hair wasn’t just pale; it was snow white. Impossibly dark eyes were set into wrinkled, olive-toned skin, and the shoulders were hunched from age, not some sort of defensive stance. He sheathed the sword into something resembling a cane before leaning on it, disguising the weapon in plain sight.

The old man raised one delicate eyebrow at Jason as he realized he’d been staring too long. “You take one to the noggin? Brain still hooked up in there?”

"You’re a demigod!"

That apparently earned him another snort, "Well, the mouth still works at any rate."

The man turned again, walking into the alleyway Jason had been trying to duck into for cover. Jason followed. It wasn’t that he’d never seen older demigods before, but never outside New Rome. It wasn’t safe. Not that this old man needed protecting he supposed. Just past the large dumpster, the man opened a steel door with a street number painted over peeling grey primer and into one of the shops that backed up to the alley.

Jason caught the door before it swung shut and dug through his bag before following inside. He was stunned further by what he found there. Three skeletons moved around a commercial kitchen space, one mopping the floor, another moving plastic and foil covered racks around in an order that probably made sense to someone who knew what they were looking at, while the third seemed to be washing dishes, bony arms covered in long yellow rubber gloves.

"They’re... skeletons."

"Eyes work too I suppose," The old man responded sarcastically as he stepped out of an attached room, pulling on a white chef’s coat as he did. "Did you need something? I’ve got dough to prep."

Jason thrust out the Legion papers he’d been provided before starting this quest. He was supposed to present them to demigods living out in the world to get help or to ensure they were paid back for services rendered, "My name is Jason Gr--"

"Don’t care. Put that nonsense away." He turned to the skeleton moving racks, "Clyde, where’d you put the Cornetto dough? I’m not finished with it yet."

Clyde, apparently, brought one of the covered racks to a station in the middle of the kitchen then went back to his work. The man made himself busy uncovering it to remove several lumps of dough and started working different ingredients into them, long dark fingers working with a sureness and fluidity that seemed at odds with his age.

Jason put himself on the opposite side of the workstation, determined to try again. "My name is Jason Grace. Son of Jupiter. Child of Rome. Centurion of the Fifth Co--"

"Shush. I’m not Roman. I don’t have any use for your Legion papers or your lengthy titles, Runt. They’re worthless here, save them for when you need them." He looked up from his dough then, dark eyes locking on Jason. "What are you after that you’re dragging that junk out in the middle of my kitchen?"

_Not... Roman? How could a demigod not be Roman?_

Jason felt everything in him deflate under the sharp gaze, and he let his arms fall to his sides in defeat, hanging his head. He was so tired. He thought he had found a place where he could get help, but this man wasn’t Roman. Wouldn’t even look at the papers. He was just too tired and too bruised to do or think of anything else.

"You'd think I’d kicked a dog," The man grumbled in a low voice before continuing the next sentence louder. "Haven't got much here, but there’s a couch in the café you can spend the night on if you need a roof over your head. You can wash up in the bathroom, and there’s a first aid kit behind the front counter. Should be safe from any more attacks here."

Jason jerked his head up only to find the man focused on his dough again.

"Thank you! I can’t--"

"Get outta my hair, Runt. The boys and I’ve got work to be done." There was a silence while Jason made his way towards the doors that let out into a darkened front room. "Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not a safe house. I don’t have supplies for you."

 

* * *

 

Jason made use of the café bathroom to clean up as best he could and bandage his wounds. He was already starting to feel a bit more like himself when he stepped into the main room to see the old man setting a plate of food next to a paper bag and a steaming mug of something on the low table next to a couch set in a back corner out of view of the curtained windows.

The man scowled at being caught in the act, "Don’t get the wrong idea. It's all stuff I’d have to throw out tonight because it hadn’t sold. Might as well put it in the garbage can of a teenage boy's stomach instead of making another dumpster run tonight."

"Thank you, Sir. I really appreciate it."

"Nico Di Angelo." He snorted in response to Jason’s confused expression, "Not 'Sir', Runt."

The fresh lettuce on the two sandwiches and soft bread on the plate gave away the lie. The paper bag might be all day old bread and pastries, but the plate of food was definitely freshly made. On top of everything else, it was a generous gift when he’d been expecting to make a meal out of field rations.


	2. The Return

It was months later when Jason stepped nervously through the door to the bakery for the second time.

Blue eyes searched behind the counter to find unfamiliar faces, a teenager about his age and a middle-aged woman sorting a few pastries to take up less space in a display case. There was no sign of the old demigod that had saved his life then given him shelter and food all while snorting rudely at any attempts to thank him and pretending he wasn't being kind.

He knew his face fell with disappointment at the sight. The man had been old. Really old. It was silly to come wandering back months later expecting him to still be there grouchily serving pastries.

"How can we help you?" The older woman of the pair offered cheerfully. "Do you know what you want?"

Jason's fingers tightened around the pouch he held in one hand. He hadn't made a plan for not finding the kind old demigod here. He'd made a dozen plans for how to talk to him again, to thank him properly, but not for this. "I... uh..."

"Get a couple of pieces of sfogliatella." The old man stumped past him, leaning on the cane that disguised his black sword, and dropping a couple of grocery bags on the counter in front of the teenager. "Go put that up in the kitchen, then bring the Runt and I two cream sodas."

The middle-aged woman was already plating pieces of a pastry that looked similar to a lobster's tail, and smiled warmly as she asked, "You know him, Nico?"

The old man snorted in response, eyeing the glass-fronted case, "Bag up a dozen baxin to go too. They're not selling today anyways."

Jason just stood there staring, grateful and shocked to see the old man's face after the brief scare. That the old man had managed to sneak up on him hadn't escaped his notice either.

"Go, siddown." Nico groused when he turned back to Jason who stood watching him with open relief. "Close your mouth. M'not that old."

Jason obediently retreated to a corner table and chairs, placing his backpack at this feet and the pouch in his lap. Nico eventually followed, bringing two plates of the lobster tail pastry over and sitting across from him.

"What brings you back here?" A delicate white eyebrow arched at him knowingly, "In trouble again?"

"No, I," Jason fumbled for words, still overwhelmed by the news the man was still alive. "I wanted to repay you for helping me back then. You saved my life."

"Pah," Nico waved off his gratitude, which he had expected. "Can't have those things making a mess outside the store. Bad for business."

Jason put the pouch on the table, opening it just enough to reveal a collection of golden drachmas to Nico, but not anyone else. "There's Ambrosia and Unicorn's Draught in there too. I asked around when I got back to camp. I'm not the first demigod you've helped like that. A lot of people in the Legion remember you, even if they don't recall the name of this town to find you again. They all said you never accept the papers so the Legion can pay you back for it."

"I don't help children with the expectation of being paid back for it." Nico growled in response to that. "You're children. You're supposed to be impetuous, screw up, and be ungrateful. You're supposed to get help anyways, because you're kids. You're not supposed to be held responsible for shit like that, and adults are supposed to look out for and protect you. That's the way the world is meant to work. I don't want your money."

Jason blinked in momentary shock, then bit his bottom lip, offended. "I'm a Centurion."

Nico cut him off, "You're a child." He sighed, taking a bite out of the sfogliatella before continuing. "I appreciate that you want to pay me back, means you're a good kid, but I don't want to be paid back. Just accept that there's an adult that helps your sort without wanting anything out of it in return. Okay, Runt?"

"My name's Jason."

That made the old demigod smirk, "Okay, Jason?"

"A lot of my," The teenager from behind the counter brought the sodas over then, and Jason fell silent as they accepted the drinks, waiting to continue until she turned away. "A lot of my friends that have met you are really grateful though. They all contributed to this." He gestured at the pouch. "You really won't accept it?"

Nico snorted, "Stubborn Runt."

"Very much so," Jason smiled.

"Eat your sfogliatella," Nico rubbed his chin, wrinkles deepening in thought. "Maybe I keep it, so I have supplies for the next kids like you that come through here. How's that for a compromise?"

"Do other demigods come through here that often?"

"Not frequently, but often enough that I doubt it's entirely coincidence. The old weavers probably have a hand in it."

 _The old weavers._ The fates sent demigods in trouble to the old man's doorstep. Jason hoped they sent help to him too.

"But you remember me out of all that?"

"I'm old, not senile."

Jason smiled wider, stuffing almost half of the pastry in his mouth. "This is really good."

Nico snorted again, but it sounded like pride and thanks to Jason now, "Of course it is. Good Italian pastries instead of that French nonsense. I'm trying out a new filling with that one. Strawberries and mint."

"It's great. Best thing I've eaten in months."

"Don't flatter me. I'm not feeding you extra for it," There was a smile in that wrinkled visage though.


	3. The Sibling

“Are you going for a record or something?” Nico grumbled as he helped Jason limp inside the café and over to the couch in the back corner.

He was out of it and slow to respond. Something had hit him in the head, impossibly hard, after he’d been separated from his team, and he was pretty sure the ankle was at least sprained. Now he was depending on some eighty or ninety-year-old baker to help him survive the night, again.

Nico was returning with a first aid kit and a plate with a square of ambrosia set amongst other pastries of his own making. He sat next to Jason on the couch and motioned for Jason to swing the injured foot into his lap. He went about inspecting, cleaning, and bandaging Jason’s foot while Jason tried to reorient his brain.

“What record?”

Nico looked up at his face again and shook his head. “Eat some of the ambrosia. You’ll feel better, Runt.”

“I have my own.”

“And you keep me stocked with more than I can get rid of. Eat.”

Jason obeyed, still trying to wrap his head around Nico’s earlier question, “Have I got the record?”

Nico snorted, sounding more pleased with this response. “No. If you don’t count my sister, you’re getting close though.”

“What’s the record for?”

“Return visits.” Nico released his bandaged ankle back to the floor. “I think I have some blankets back in the office. Be right back.”

When Nico returned carrying blankets for him, Jason smiled sleepily, foregoing the thank you he knew Nico would shrug off. “What’s your sister like?”

“Get some sleep, Runt.”

“Who’s got me beat for visits other than her?”

“Jason, rest.”

“Not supposed to go to sleep with a head injury.”

“That’s mortal rules. You’ve got godly food fixing you up, and your body needs the energy.”

 

* * *

Morning sunlight was streaming through the windows when Jason woke again, feeling much better. He sat up on the couch to find the café empty, chairs set upside down on the tables and display cases empty. It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar sight. If anything, the café with its old and well-worn couch was starting to feel a little bit like a second home, after the Legion barracks of course.

His muscles tensed at the sound of something rattling in the lock of the café’s front door, and he pulled the coin from his pocket, making ready to flip it into the golden sword at a moment’s notice. He remembered from prior visits the shop didn’t open until eleven, and he was sure he hadn’t slept that long. He was glad the couch’s placement in a back nook of the café rendered him largely invisible from the shop windows. He edged until he could see the person who had entered through the doorway, a young teenage girl a little older than himself with dark brown hair pulled into a neat braid, dark eyes, and freckle-dusted cheeks. Her outfit was all in shades or white and grey. His instincts shouted at him that something was strange about her. 

Nico had told him monsters couldn’t enter the shop, but there was a first time for everything. Right?

The older demigod was probably still asleep in the small second floor apartment above the café and bakery. Jason flipped the coin into a sword and stepped out into easy view for the intruder. In the moments he had been looking at his weapon, she had apparently retrieved hers though, and he was met with a silver bow aimed at his chest from the other side of the shop.

“Who are you?”

“Jason Grace, Centurion of the Twelfth Roman Legion.” He shifted in place, trying to see if there was a viable angle for attack, if it was necessary. “Who are you?”

She cocked her head slightly to one side, as if sorting through the information. "You're Nico's new stray? The one that keeps coming back?"

Jason felt his cheeks heat up at that. It was one thing for Nico to rib him about his return visits to check up on the old man and bring him demigod supplies, it was different to realize he was discussed with other people. Maybe he was annoying. Maybe the visits weren't wanted. He lowered his sword. "You're a demigod too?"

She smiled, it was a thin and cautious thing still, and Jason found it reminded him of Nico's rare smiles despite the age and gender difference. 

"Among other things." She lowered her bow, returning the arrow to a quiver and placing the bow on a nearby table. "I'm Lieutenant Bianca Di Angelo of the Hunters of Artemis. Well met, Centurion."

"You're related to Nico?" She was far too young to be the sister Nico had mentioned. Maybe she was a niece, more likely a grand-niece, or a granddaughter perhaps? She was in service to a virgin goddess apparently, and he certainly had to be respectful of that. He flipped the sword back into its coin form and pocketed it.

Her smile turned crooked in a way that was even more clearly an echo of Nico, "His sister. You've never heard of the Hunters, have you?"

"No." Apparently meeting a Di Angelo was always going to involve feeling vaguely like the ground had been ripped out from under him. "How can you be..?"

"Artemis grants immortality in exchange for sworn loyalty and service." She laughed, "I'm actually the older sibling."

 

* * *

Nico came downstairs almost an hour later to find Jason placing chairs neatly around the tables on the freshly mopped floor while Bianca wiped down the tables he had already cleared.

"Shouldn't you be resting that foot, Runt?"

Bianca dropped her rag and practically bounced over to his side, giving him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, Neeks."

He returned the hug and kissed her forehead, his age and some measure of frailty Jason hadn't noticed before becoming pronounced by contrast to her eternal youth.

"Welcome back, Bi." Nico's smile was wide now, white teeth visible. "I see you've met the Runt."

Bianca nodded, "I'm glad someone else is trying to look after you, baby brother."

"I don't need looking after," Nico groused as Jason finished setting the last chairs and started to go after Bianca's abandoned rag. "And you. Sit down. You're going to muck up that foot again."

Bianca raised an eyebrow in question, while Jason obediently returned to his place on the couch.

"Stubborn Runt."

"I'm glad you've made a friend," Bianca spoke warmly. "Even if he is Roman."

Nico gave his familiar dismissive snort, but didn’t argue. Jason smiled to be counted among the old demigod’s friends. He suspected that was a rare honor.


	4. Rewards

Jason put the last chair on top of its café table and turned looking for Nico, to find no sign of him. He trotted behind the counter and poked his head in the kitchen to find the now familiar sight of the old man folding dough in the kitchen while a trio of skeletons moved racks of prepped pastries and washed dishes.

“Hi Clyde,” He smiled to one of them as it moved past, teeth chattering in a wordless greeting.

“You’re done?” Nico asked. “Get over here. I want you to try something.”

Jason came obediently, looking curiously at the bits and pieces of Nico’s latest creation.

“Taste that,” Nico pointed at a silver bowl full of a cream or custard-like substance.

He retrieved it, and took a mouthful with a small spoon from one of the utensil racks. He’d learned his lesson previous times to not stick a finger in the bowl with sharp raps from Nico. _ He was running a professional kitchen, not a home cook. _ “Umm.”

“Tell me what you think. You’ve eaten enough of my work to know what’s good, Runt.”

Jason bit his bottom lip before answering carefully, “Texture’s really good, but it’s kind of flavorless.”

“Good.”

“‘Good?’”

“That’s all.” Nico waved him off. “I’m almost done prepping for the night, go to sleep on the cot upstairs.”

“Okay.” He knew he might not ever get an explanation, but he was grateful that he was getting the cot this visit. Nico’s “cot” was actually a thin pull out bed with a soft mattress situated in a corner of the living room of the apartment over the bakery. It was normally reserved for Bianca. Even when she wasn’t here, which was often, most demigods never earned enough of Nico’s trust to be invited upstairs into his home. Jason still felt a small thrill every time he was told he could stay there instead of in the café.

 

* * *

Jason woke when Nico was puttering around the small apartment making breakfast. It was a strangely homey feeling, the low song the old man hummed softly to himself as he brewed coffee and the warm yellow lights of the small kitchen spilling over the back of the couch onto the cot Jason was borrowing.

He couldn't remember ever having a place he could call home aside from the Legion barracks, and while the Legion was home, it wasn't homey.

_ Not like this. _

_ There was warmth here not present in the campfire or his fellow Legionnaires. _

He wondered if this was what having a family was like. If this was the difference that woke the new recruits up in the middle of the night with homesickness.

_ He'd never known it before. _

"Never known you to sleep in, Runt."

He looked up to find Nico peering over the side of the couch, dark eyes warm in the early morning light, a steaming mug held ready for him. He accepted the mug, sitting up on the cot as he did so, "Thank you, Nico."

"Must've been a hell of a quest to wipe you out past dawn. You can stay another couple of nights if you need to."

Jason smiled, "Worried about me?"

"Don't mind the free labor." Nico harrumphed, "Not as young as I used to be."

"You could come live in New Rome. It'd be safer. I know you're not Roman, but I could petition the Senate--"

"No," Nico's voice was gentle but firm. "My place is here. My life is here. I get to see Bi when she has time, and I can help good kids like you. It's what I'm meant for."

"But..."

"Clyde and the boys give me plenty of help. It's just a good excuse to keep you around a couple of extra days if you want to humor an old man. You know that, Runt."

Jason felt his shoulders sag. He knew Bianca checked up on Nico as often as she could. He did too. But he worried for the old man. He wanted him safe. Safe for demigods was inside the walls of New Rome. Not out in the world. Not alone.

"So what happened? You've got a shiny new cloak and new pins this time. My Runt get promoted?"

_ His Runt. _

"I was raised to Praetor," Jason blushed slightly, hoping Nico would be proud of him.

"Praetor, huh?" Nico rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyes narrowing as he considered the information.

"There was a big battle. It was a field promotion."

Sharp, dark eyes focused on him, "That mountain in California?"

Jason nodded.

Bony fingers gripped Jason's arm like a vice, yanking him forward with short, unexpected force. Nico's voice was gruffer than usual, and made the words both an accusation and a question, "You hurt?"

"No?"

Nico's dark eyes narrowed.

"Just a little. It's already healed up. I promise. I only got a new scar or two."

Nico released him with a sigh, hand brushing through white hair in a tired gesture, "Nasty business on that mountain. The gods had no business putting that mess on a bunch of children. Lazy--"

"I'm okay. Really."

Nico shook his head, "I can see that."

"Did someone else," Jason stopped. "Is Bianca?"

"Not everyone came back down that mountain, Runt. War isn't meant for children."

"Nico," Jason's heart clenched. "I... I'm..."

"But it's always the children that get sent to war. Useless bunch of bones we old men are."

Jason set his mug down before moving to hug Nico, feeling the sharp angles of the old man's bones under soft wrinkled skin. He was so old, and thin, and alone. And too stubborn to come back to New Rome although Jason and a few dozen Legionnaires would have fought to make a place for him.

"I'm sorry, Nico."

"Pah," Nico grumbled, but he hugged back. "Bi's okay. Just got hurt bad. Some of her Hunters died there. Had me worried when I didn't hear from you is all. Worried my Runt didn't make it down that mountain."

"I'm fine."

"Good," There was no hiding the relief in Nico's voice. After a bit, he released the hug, and patted Jason's shoulder distractedly. "Thanks for humoring a sentimental old man. I get attached to some of you kids."

Jason smiled warmly, "Have I got the record after Bianca yet?"

That made Nico laugh, a short sharp sound. "No. Another boy keeps just ahead of you."

Jason feigned a pout, sticking out his lower lip in a way that felt cartoonish, "Shoot. I thought I was your favorite."

"Didn't say you weren't. He's just here more often," Nico got up, and started shifting eggs and bacon from a skillet onto plates. "You've got more responsibilities than that one does. I expect you'll knock heads one of these days."

"I have to go back today," Jason said apologetically. "Duties."

"Not surprised. Glad you checked in though." Nico nodded towards a familiar white paper bag on the coffee table. "Seems like a good present for your promotion. Made some sfogliatella with chunks of ambrosia in the cream. Cream's flavorless, so it shouldn't contrast with whatever taste you get off the god food. Should be good for getting you a bit of that healing without overdosing it or dealing with too much of that terrible overcooked brownie texture."

"Thank you," Jason looked at the bag. "That's really amazing."


	5. Record Holder

"What. Do. You. Think. You're. Doing?"

The dark haired boy turned away from the door to Nico's  café , eyes narrowed in response to the venom dripping from Jason's voice. The stranger held a small knife that he had clearly been trying to use to jimmy the door open. The idea that anyone would try to break into this  café  stoked a fire in Jason's gut.

"Hey bro," The teen lifted his hands in surrender, looking unconcerned. "It's not what it looks like. I'm supposed to be in there. Just got locked out by accident. Left my backpack inside. Don't wanna wake up anybody to get in."

Jason brought out his coin, flipping it between fingers. How dare this boy lie to him. How dare he try to vandalize Nico's home. This mortal teenager was about to get the well-earned scare of his life.

He flipped the coin into the air, and caught it as it came back down as a golden sword. He bared his teeth as Lupa had trained him to.

The teenager with the pocket knife's eyes went wide, showing bright green irises dancing with excitement.

"Oh good," The stranger grinned. "And here I thought I'd have to try to talk my way out of this without Annabeth. This is much easier."

"Nothing's about to be easy, Mortal," Jason growled.

"Not mortal," The teenager dropped the pocket knife and produced a pen, which he uncapped, causing it to transform into a bronze sword. "Demigod. I thought you monsters could smell that."

Jason blinked. Another demigod? Why would he try to break into Nico's cafe then? The old man helped younger demigods willingly. It was unnecessary and cruel to damage his property for things the man would have freely given.

"I'm not a monster. I'm a demigod, and you're trying to vandalize my friend's shop!"

The teen came at him swinging, and Jason grunted as he parried the sword blows, getting increasingly angry with this rogue demigod that clearly had bad intentions towards Nico. He didn't attack other demigods as a rule, but this boy was...

"I swear to Hades if you wake Nico up," Bianca's voice hissed annoyance as she came around the corner of the building, yanking back on Jason's collar and catching the stranger's sword against her bow. "Why are you two fighting here in the middle of the night?"

Jason growled an answer, careful to keep his voice low, "Stopping a thief!

The stranger piped up brightly, "Bianca!"

Bianca sighed, sounding just like Nico, and released Jason's collar, turning to him and ignoring the stranger, "Thief?"

"He," Jason gestured with his sword. "Was trying to break into the café!"

Bianca leveled a glare at the stranger, "Percy?"

"It's late! I didn't want to wake anyone up!"

She rubbed her temple in irritation, "So you thought breaking the expensive front door would be better than waking Nico up, or checking to see if the skeletons were working in the kitchen?"

"Uh..."

"And you woke me up anyways," Bianca intoned darkly. "If you broke that door, I'll beat you into next week. Come around back, you ninnies."

When Jason hesitated, she stopped to smile at him, "You too, Runt."

Percy laughed, "'Runt?'"

But Jason beamed in response to Nico's nickname for him and followed obediently into the silent kitchen.

 

* * *

"So you've met my record holder," Nico said warmly as he sat a pot of coffee on one of the cafe tables and Bianca came behind with four mugs.

Percy blinked in confusion, "What record?"

Jason made a face, "Him?"

"Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, meet Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon," Bianca laughed, in a much better mood now than she had been at 2am. "Seaweed Brain, meet Jason."

"Hey," Percy objected to the nickname immediately. "Why am I the only one getting called names?"

"You're the one I caught trying to break the door at an ungodly hour."

"The Runt caught him," Nico corrected. "You broke up a sword fight."

"Okay, seriously, why 'Runt'? He's bigger than I am!"

"That's why it's funny," both di Angelo’s answered immediately. 

Jason preened under the attention, pouring coffee for everyone. The di Angelo’s were like the family he couldn't recall ever having, and he found he couldn't begrudge the friendly ribbing that came with it. Rather, he loved it.

"Bro, you look way too happy about being made fun of."

Jason smiled, "They've helped me more times than I can count. It's just a nickname."

"You don't like the nickname?"

Jason spun to face Nico, eyes wide. He didn't know how to admit he liked that Nico had given the nickname, even if he wasn't overly fond of being called “Runt” on its own. It wasn't “Golden Boy”. It wasn't a pedestal nor a dig at his pride. It was... different. And he didn't know Percy that he could risk seeming weak in front of him.

Nico raised an eyebrow in response to Jason's expression, but his eyes sparkled with mischief and he smiled, "Pah. Doesn't matter. My home, I'll call you what I please. Same goes for you, Surfer Boy."

"I don't surf," Percy groused.

"Shame, you'd probably be good at it. You should branch out your interests."

Percy groaned, "You're so weird, Old Man."

Nico grunted, "You're the one that keeps showing up here. I don't go looking for you."

"And you, bro seriously, you're like some puppy the way you act around them." Percy gestured at Jason, "You're not bad with a sword; where's your pride?"

"He's more of a guard dog than a puppy," Bianca mused.

"Guard wolf," Nico corrected, adding a bit more cream to his coffee. He winked at Jason when the youngest demigod turned to him. "I know what I'm about."

Bianca blinked at both of them then laughed loud and long, "That's true, isn't it?!"

 

* * *

He woke up on the couch in the cafe again. Percy had left the day before, continuing on some quest with a short deadline. He hadn't asked where Percy came from. He suspected he knew enough of the edges to that answer that he didn't want to look any closer for the truth. There weren't supposed to be non-Roman demigods, but the di Angelo’s existed. Artemis's Huntresses existed. Percy existed. There was something he didn't want to look at too closely there, so he didn't.

_ That truth might mean he couldn't visit Nico anymore, and he didn't want that more than anything in the world. _

"Your friends have come to pick you up. I think you have a quest to resume too, Praetor."

Jason stretched, and looked past Nico to the two Legionnaires standing awkwardly in the  café  dining area. He'd detoured from the quest to visit Nico, and they were supposed to meet back up to continue this morning. It was before dawn, which meant something had changed and they needed to continue now. Hours early.

_ He didn't want to. He wanted to stay here, sleeping until dawn in a place that smelled like sugar and flour and di Angelo.  Where he felt safe. Where he felt at home. _

_ It wasn't an option. _

He stood up, nodding and whispering a soft apology and thanks to the old demigod, then turned to his soldiers.

"Legionnaires, report."


	6. +1 And The One Time He Didn't...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The five times Jason Grace met a Nico di Angelo who didn't stay in the Lotus Casino at an out of the way bakery... And the one time he didn't.

It was the middle of the afternoon.

The café should be open.

The darkened café dining room and the plastic sign still flipped to “Closed” while the sun was high in the sky told him the impossible was true. He still couldn't believe it.

Something in Jason's chest tightened uncomfortably.

He heard his shoe squeak against pavement as he pivoted to dash to the back door in the alley. Maybe the café was closed because Nico was sick. He was old. He was human. It was bound to happen once in a while. The café wasn't open and being run by Nico's employees because a Nico with a cold couldn't make the pastries that were the café's hallmark.

_Of course._

_Because it could not be something worse._

He knocked politely on the steel door.

No response.

Nico just had a cold. He was upstairs in his little apartment, resting in bed. Clyde and the other skeletons were probably scrubbing the kitchen spotless while it was devoid of people.

He banged on the steel door.

Still, no one answered.

_There couldn't be a world without Nico di Angelo in it._

"Nico?" His voice was soft at first. Plaintive. It slowly rose in volume and panic. He didn't stop hammering on the steel door with its peeling gray paint. "Nico?! NICO? _NICO DI ANGELO?! ANSWER ME! PLEASE!_ **_NICO! PLEASE?!_ ** "

One of the doors a few yards down the wall opened.

_It wasn't Nico's door._

He ignored it.

Someone touched his shoulder and he whirled to face them, throwing his back against the steel door, breathing hard.

He didn't know the middle-aged Asian woman who stood there, but she was probably from the Vietnamese restaurant on the same block.

"I've seen you. You're a friend of the baker's?"

"Yes," His voice sounded small and thready.

"Baker's at the hospital." Jason couldn't breathe. "He took a bad fall out here in the alley. They think maybe some punks mugged him for the till money. Terrible how things are these days. People are so cruel. You know where the hospital is?"

Jason shook his head mutely.

"Stay here. My son's on a break." She yelled something in Vietnamese before turning back to Jason. "Lazy boy, my son. He's just smoking. He'll drive you to the hospital to see the baker. I'll send some soup with you. It's good for healing. Good for you too. Warm you up. Baker man is a good neighbor. You're a good boy. I've seen you helping him. Sweeping, taking the trash out. You help the old baker at the hospital too. Good kid."

She just provided a constant stream of gentle talking while her son pulled a pickup truck around and then pushed a plastic bucket of soup on him when he climbed in. Her son was silent on the drive to the local hospital.

"Hey kid," Jason looked up as he was about to close the truck door. "I hope your grandpa or whatever is okay. He seems like a good guy. Bit odd like my Mom, but a good guy, and I know he runs off some of the hooligans that hang out in that alley. I like him."

"He's not my grandpa," Jason said softly. "We're not even related."

"No?" The young man shrugged, "Don't tell the nurse that. Say he's your grandpa. He always looks at you like you're family. You go take care of him."

 

* * *

 

He stood in the doorway of the hospital room, awkwardly clutching the soup to his chest. He'd visited Legionnaires in the medico plenty of times. He'd watched Legionnaires die on the battlefield and on quests. Nothing had prepared him for seeing Nico di Angelo on a hospital bed, bandaged, and IVs running to his arms.

He finally edged his way into the room, careful to remain silent, listening to the old man's thready breathing and the constant hum and beep of machines.

 

* * *

 

Jason woke up when a nurse was tucking a blanket around his shoulders.

"Oh, sweetheart. You're fine. Don't worry about visiting hours. You're family, and we'd been worried that no one had been in to visit him yet."

He nodded, feeling numb, "Has he woken up?"

"Not yet. You just stay put. I'm sure you're the first thing he wants to see when he does."

 

* * *

 

Jason woke again to someone moving in the room, on the far side of Nico's bed. His fingers moved to wrap around the golden coin in his pocket before remembering it was gone.

He tensed, slowly opening his eyes to find-- Bianca di Angelo, leaning over Nico, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She looked younger than he was now, softly glowing in the moonlight of her patron goddess. Even though he understood she'd stopped aging long before he'd met her, it seemed impossible that this had come to pass.

"Bianca?" His voice was scratchy and hoarse, but she heard him.

"Hi Runt," Her voice was soft. "We thought we'd lost you for a while there."

"I saw him," Jason whispered. "At the final battle. I knew I saw him, but no one believed me. I finally remembered."

"Most people forget Nico until they need him."

"You don't."

"He's my baby brother. Neither do you though, and that's something different."

"Is he going to," Jason's voice cracked. "Is he going to be okay? Is he going to wake up?"

"I don't know," Bianca spoke softly. "He's old, Jason. He shouldn't have been shadow-travelling at all, much less such a long distance."

"He can't," Jason curled in on himself in the chair. "I never got a chance to explain. To apologize for disappearing. To thank him."

"He knows, Jason," Bianca was at his side, perching on the arm of the chair to hug him against her side with one hand, while the other held Nico's wrinkled hand in her eternally youthful one. "We've seen enough of the world, him and me. We can figure out when the gods have interfered with things. He knew you wouldn't have stopped coming by choice."

He turned his face into her side, still fighting back the tears that had been threatening since he'd seen the old man stumble then disappear on the battlefield outside Camp Half-Blood.

They were silent together for a long time, when Bianca shifted against him, her hold tightening, "What are you doing here?"

The voice that answered her was masculine, calm, deep, and darker than Jason had ever imagined a voice could be, "Don't ask things you already know the answer to, Bianca. You're more intelligent than that."

"We haven't said goodbye yet."

"It's his time."

Bianca grit her teeth loudly enough that the sound echoed in the small room.

Jason raised his head, but only looked at Nico, breathing slow and labored under white sheets. Beyond him, on the other side of the bed, a dark shape moved.

"Lord Pluto," Jason greeted somberly.

"Son of Jupiter."

"He deserved more."

"All of my children do, but he was happier than most. Take solace in that."

Jason swallowed against a hard lump in his throat.

"In another tapestry of fate, you two were not so far apart, but he had less joy in life. Which fate would you wish on him?"

 

* * *

 

Jason woke up in the Hades cabin at Camp Half-Blood, morning light streaming in through a single open window. He sat up suddenly, disturbing the smaller demigod who had fallen asleep against his side on the couch.

Nico grumbled and shifted against him, messy curls leaving strands of black hair on Jason's bright orange shirt. Jason blinked back tears as his stomach fell to Hades then leaped into his throat.

Nico was alive. And safe. And here beside him, the same age and his dearest friend.

He wondered if that dream had been only that or if The Fates had given him a glimpse of a different destiny, one where Nico had lived a generation apart from the rest of them. A fate where Bianca had outlived her brother. A fate where he had been happier than he was now.

Jason wondered if he could make sure this was a happier lifetime. There was so much pain in Nico's past to balance out, but maybe he could do it. It might take decades, but wouldn't it be worth it? To show Lord Pluto the kind of fate he wanted for Nico? To make Nico's life here and now happier than that lonely ending?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done. I started this fic in response to an anonymous prompt on tumblr a long time ago, found the half-written rough draft in my story documents, and decided to finish it up for the new year. I hope everyone enjoyed.


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